


and the echo comes back

by orphan_account



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Female James T. Kirk, Female Spock, Genderswap, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Tarsus IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7044625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Jamie Tiberia Kirk was one-part born and two-parts made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the echo comes back

**Author's Note:**

> * important timeline note: okay, so this follows Kirk and the Enterprise from the events of Star Trek up through Into Darkness, so some of it might seem repetitive of actual canon, but I've tweaked some things to accommodate for the gender switch. No, this doesn't include Beyond, even though that movie gave me life.
> 
> * obligatory warning label: contains a single reference to underage (in the form of Tarsus), description of attempted genocide (also in the form of Tarsus), brief mention of attempted assault (in the form of Jim Kirk's fucked up childhood), canonical character death (in the form of Pike and that one time with Jim), post-traumatic stress, and canon-typical violence.
> 
> muse(ic) is the deep by data romance  
> enjoy, and I love you!
> 
> \- p

 

_ "What should we call her?" _

_ "Let's name her after your dad." _

_ "What, Tiberia? No, that's terrible! Let's name her after your dad. Let's call her Jamie." _

_ "Jamie." _

_ "Sweetheart, can you hear me?" _

_ "I hear you." _

_ "I love you so much, I  _ love you -"

 

Jim Kirk grows up on the smell of machine lubricant and hummed renditions of _Dani California_ , her mother's methodical motions disassembling and reassembling a standard-issue phaser, Sam's arm arching back as he throws another stone into the quarry's drop-off, Frank bitching her out, red clay dust and knotted hair and TV dinners and over it all the dying screech of tires not finding purchase on loose-packed clay and one last thought of 'well  _ fuck _ .’

 

She doesn't really mean to drive the car off the cliff. She just slams on the brakes far too late for the tires to lock up. The thin covering of dust that's ubiquitous in Riverside sends the Corvette skidding. She bails out the driver's-side door before she can really register what's going on besides bad bad  _ bad BAD _ . Her hair gets tangled in her teeth and her mouth and she screams but hitting the ground is like being sucker-punched by Sam's tenth-grade asshole of a friend and the wind is sucked right out of her lungs. She claws at the unforgiving clay anyway, claws and flails to slow her momentum, fucking  _ terrified  _ and determined not to go over that damn cliff.

When the officer asks her name, breathless and still half-high on the adrenaline and panic crashing through her, she still manages to reply "My name is Jamie Tiberia Kirk."

 

Except the kicker is that Frank doesn't drop the charges on his twelve-year-old stepdaughter who wrecked his car because she, quote, "thought it was too clean and pretty and wanted to mess it up a bit", unquote.

Jim's given two options: juvie or get off the damn planet.

She picks what she thinks is the lesser of two evils. The joke is that the lesser of two evils was actually juvie, but it's a joke without a punchline, because a week later Jim's got a ticket in her pocket that says OUTBOUND: TARSUS IV.

 

It's always been Sam's job to hate space. It's where their father died, it's where their mother hides from the rest of the world. It's what leaves the two of them alone planetside with Frank and his assholery.

Jim's always just found it cool that you could pick a spot in the sky, any spot, and fly away toward it forever and ever and ever, amen.

And then Tarsus happened.

 

Fuck space. And fuck this Pike guy who's trying to tell her what the goddamn Federation is.

Jim knows what the Federation is.

It's fucking  _ late _ .

"You know, when the bartender told me who you were, I couldn't believe it." Pike had said, after he'd picked her up off the floor and handed her a wad of napkins to wipe the blood off her broken nose.

"And who am I?" She had asked, playing with a salt shaker and getting bloody fingerprints all over it.

Pike smiled. Jim noticed his eyes, like her's, were blue. But his lacked that Kirkian vivacity that marked her.

"Your father's daughter."

Jim put her arms on the table and leaned in close, until her hair fell over her shoulder and her bruised jaw came into stark relief against the overhead lights. Her eyes were surprisingly trenchant for someone who'd been drooling on linoleum and spilled vodka half an hour ago.

"All due respect sir, my father doesn't get that claim on me. My mother raised me, I'm her daughter. You want my father's anything, pretty sure she got all his effects."

"Spoken like a Kirk." Pike had nodded, and bought her another round.

And then he'd gone and dared her to out-do her old man.

 

McCoy, Leonard McCoy becomes Bones over a flask of Jack Daniels spiced with nutmeg on a shuttle that's picking at Jim's claustrophobia and inherent dislike of having assholes in her immediate vicinity.

Bones becomes her friend when they step off the shuttle and he says "Damn, do I need a coffee" and they order each other's drinks at a Caffe Nero a block and a half away from the Academy. Jim even ignores his questioning look at her cappuccino, and she politely does not dry heave at the black tar he sips out of his cup.

Her friend becomes her best friend when they get assigned the same dorm (because Starfleet is  _ awesome  _ and assigns coed dorms, because you can't actually keep separate-sex dorms when 45% of your student population doesn't fall under the headings of  _ boy  _ or  _ girl _ ) and Jim learns that watching crappy reruns of some 21st century televid called 'House' with Bones is a recipe for gut-busting laughter and ranting exclusively in terms straight out of Taber's in equal measure.

Her best friend nearly becomes her lover that one time, but Bones had held up a hand and said "Not your best idea, darlin'", and that had been that.

Case in point, Bones was the fucking best and nothing could convince Jim otherwise.

 

The cadets rise in one ten-tiered wave of regulation red, fenced in by black commander's uniforms, all spilling out of what was once a hearing to be assigned to ships. Bones appears by her side. It's one of the things Jim likes about him, he just shows up when she needs him.

"Who was that pointy-eared bitch?" She asks him, starting toward the exits.

"I dunno, but I like her."

Jim rolls her eyes and shoves a bony elbow into Bones' ribs.

"Please don't hit on the chick that's trying to get me expelled."

Bones shoots her a grimace and a glare, the two-part package of his signature  _ you're a real pain in my ass, Jimmy girl _ look. Jim cracks him an appeasing grin.

"You can do better." She says, even as her eyes trail after the regulation-perfect uniform of a retreating Vulcan.

 

Moments before the  _ Enterprise  _ warps into an ambush, Jim hits the bridge running.

She doesn't know whose expression she wishes she had on instant replay more: Pike's or the Vulcan's.

Spock immediately begins reciting violations of Starfleet regulations with a terrifying level of focus on her face, at once intense and unerringly accurate.

"Kirk, what the  _ hell _ -"

"Sir, you need to stop this ship."

"While traveling at warp speed during a rescue mission?" Spock queries from Pike's shoulder. Her eyes are dark and cutting, somehow colder than they were at the hearing. Oh. Right. This is Vulcan that's under attack. Jim can see her nervousness in the steel beam that is her spine.

"It's not a rescue mission," she growls, shaking Bones off her arm, "it's a damn ambush."

"Based on what evidence, Cadet Kirk?"

Jim takes in a long, slow breath, feeling the eyes trained on her with sudden acuteness.

And she tells them.

It's not relief at being believed that crawls up her spine when the red emergency lights descend over the bridge.

Half a second before the  _ Enterprise  _ drops out of warp, Jim's eyes meet Spock's over the partition behind the command chair.

Then everything is thrown to hell.

 

Everything happens in quick succession; the tires fill with dust and the brakes can't find purchase.

Sulu engages in some truly wicked evasive maneuvers. The bridge crew learn the name Nero. Pike makes Spock acting captain. Olson is sucked under the rim of the massive drill jutting out over the ionosphere of Vulcan. Oh, right; there's a massive drill jutting out over the ionosphere of Vulcan.

"Clear the pad," Spock snaps as Sulu tries to catch his breath under Jim.

"Spock, are you nuts?" Jim asks, half breathless and half furious. The eyes that meet her own are calculating, cold, but the way they're framed is wrong. There's a pinched sort of quality to the corners of Spock's eyes, a lowness to her eyebrows that bathes them in shadow. A tight set of her lips that speaks of fear.

Jim blinks and steps off the pad.

"Energize," Spock orders, and is gone.

Jim helps Sulu back to the bridge. Chekov works the teleporter like a goddamn madman but the tiny broken quality to his voice as he says "I lost her" is all that matters in the end. Spock curls the hand she had been holding out toward the empty pad beside her into a fist and lets it fall.

Jim is abandoned on Delta Vega with the meat of her neck still aching like a bitch.

The brakes work, but there's nothing to get traction on.

 

"Jamie Tiberia Kirk." The old chick with the flaming stick says, flabbergasted. Jim has enough clarity of mind to stop thinking  _ fucking thanks, Obi Wan  _ and say instead "No way in hell."

Tarsus was apparently not the only joke the universe decided to throw her way. Now she has to deal with this asshole. At least she had the foresight to wear her regulation pants instead of the miniskirt. Delta Vega is fucking  _ cold _ .

But still, the light of recognition that kindles in Spock Prime's gaze when it falls on her is enough to stir an empathy Jim didn't know she could muster for the pointy-eared little bitch. It hurts, being looked at like that, and it makes no sense that Jim doesn't ever want it to stop.

 

When Spock Prime connects their psi-points, Jim admits that what she's expecting is some level of coherency. Something like talking, where there's a clear back-and-forth defined by a start and an end.

That's not what a mind-meld is at all.

Spock's got some pretty remarkable shields, because for the most part she only shows Jim what she wants her to know, all the pertinent information bundled together into a single package of images and memories and fleeting impressions.

Jim's not half as prepared, and her mind is an open book of muddled memories and crystal-clear emotions and half-conscious thoughts too slow for her mental process to complete before moving onto the next. She smells hot, freshly-pressed coffee and hears an irritable Southern drawl and feels the hollowed-out sensation of starvation come closing in on all sides. She's Jim Kirk laid bare in a tidal wave, and Spock Prime takes it and takes it and takes it, drawing it all up like she's a goddamn psychic sponge. Like she's seen it before.

_ Like she’s seen it before _ .

Jim rips away from the warm fingers on her face and realizes she's crying.

She scrubs away the tears and they go find Scotty. Spock doesn't mention it.

Keenser hits on her in his Keenser-y way, and for a second she can pretend she hasn't been gutted like a fish. That this isn't the same feeling as hitting Riverside clay with your death still fresh in your lungs, feeling air go spilling out of you and wondering how much you've got left to give before your lungs collapse entirely.

 

Jim comes back on board the _Enterprise_ with a vengeance.

She drags a dripping wet Scotty onto the bridge and immediately lays into Spock.

Knowing that this block of ice with bangs can feel, has just been ravaged by the loss of her entire planet, almost stops her, but it doesn't. It's one planet and a cruel deed or a dozen planets and a nice gesture of solidarity.

When it comes down to the wire, Jim will always be cruel before she's negligent. Needs of the many, and all that bullshit.

Uhura takes a step forward from her console when she realizes what Jim's doing - always the first to catch on, good old Uhura - but for some reason doesn't stop her.

Spock takes half a step backwards before she checks herself.

"Step away from me," She enunciates very clearly, the ice in her glacial tone beginning to sprout barbed icicles. Her spine is stiff. She's scared.

"You  _ never _ loved her!" Jim hisses, feeling an ache where Winona Kirk should have been in her heart, and then Spock is slamming her against the console with a strength three times greater than a human's.

Spock Prime's mind had admitted the memory of the words 'most powerful touch telepath of her generation' into Jim's mind. The words make sense now.

Car, cliff.

Spock's fingers tighten around her neck, and then suddenly Jim's  _ in. _ She's  _ everywhere _ . She's " _ He'satraitoryouknow _ " and " _ shehashumaneyestheylooksad _ ". She's T'Pau's voice telling her her mind is too volatile to sustain a connection with a bondmate, that she is compromised. She's I-Chaya's fur just behind the ears and Amanda's hands closing around her wrists, she's Sybok's stumbling human slang and " _ towhatdisadvantagedoyourefer _ "" _ yourhumanmother _ "" _ MinistersImustdecline _ " and  _ prideresentmentangerhurtconfusionfearstopstop _ STOP.

Spock rips away from her, breathing heavily, and Jim takes a single ragged gasp of air. She doesn't cry this time, because twice in one day is just ridiculous, but it looks like Spock is on the teetering edge of tears. Jim wonders vaguely what she unknowingly showed her before a hacking cough rocks through her body. Bones - fucking finally, where have you been? - descends on her like a bat out of hell, pressing a tricorder to her temple and fussing ass over tit.

She bats his hand away, watching Spock as she retreats for the second time in as many days.

Uhura reaches out, but Spock glides by her without so much as acknowledgement.

Sarek, after a moment, follows.

Jim fumbles her way into the captain's chair and gives the order to go after Nero.

"I sure hope you know what you're doing," Uhura says at her shoulder, " _ Captain _ ."

"Yeah," Jim says, touching the red ring of fingerprints on her neck, "So do I."

 

(If Jim had been in the transporter room during Spock and Sarek's conversation, she would've thought it weird that Sarek mentioned his love for Spock's mother.

Spock, who was there, didn't think it was weird at all. That didn't stop her from balling her fists and resolutely ignoring the comment.)

 

Nero's sort of a disappointment. Too revenge-driven, still too hot off the pan. His rage hasn't cooled yet into the fury necessary to bring his enemies to their knees.

Still, it's fucking terrifying when he leans in over Jim and says "Jamie Tiberia Kirk was a great woman in my universe's history books. She went on to save many worlds. It is a legacy I will rob you of."

And then Spock flies a fucking ship into the Narada like a goddamn boss and they teleport the fuck out of there.

 

Again, it's a joke with no punchline.

"Sulu, why aren't we at warp?"

"We are, sir!" Sulu says, gritting his teeth and slamming the thrusters into max burn. Beside him, Chekov's fingers are a blur on the console.

Spock grips the back of the command chair. Jim's somewhat anchored by her presence.

"Scotty!" She yells into her communicator.

"She's pushin' full burn, ca'in! She cannae go any further!"

"Captain," Spock says quietly from her shoulder, "if the _Enterprise_ crosses the event horizon -"

"I'm aware of the physics of a black hole, Spock." Jim snaps. Then, to Scotty she continues, "There's something we can do, Scotty! Give me anything!"

"If… If we eject the core into the singularity itself, maybe, I cannae ensure anthin', ca'in, but it's possible the detonation would -"

"Do it, do it,  _ do it!" _ She screams, and then the _Enterprise_ is jolting forward and the tires find purchase and the brakes lock and the edge stops accelerating closer.

This time, Jim Kirk doesn't bail out of the car.

Over the top of her command chair, her eyes find Spock's.

Not bad.

 

Jane Harrison blew up a building named after her father's ship and Pike nearly demoted her. Guess which one she's pissed as hell about.

She was cleared from the Nibiru run on Monday, and Monday night saw her shoulder-to-shoulder with Spock in front of Admiral Pike. As soon as she'd come in she knew something was wrong and looked to Spock immediately. Her First Officer's lips were thinned and her spine impeccably straight, to anyone else textbook Vulcan qualities. To Jim, who had  _ fear _ and  _ play by the rules _ almost synonymous in her mind, it looked like the Spock equivalent of panic.

"So you have nothing further to add to your report, Commander?"

Spock eyes him with that cold analysis she likes to pin the unsuspecting with.

"If you are insinuating, Admiral, that my report contains falsifications or omissions from the actual version of events, I would like to inform you that your assumptions are incorrect."

Jim has a very clear thought of _ get 'em, girl  _ before the Pike line of interrogation turns on her.

"So you mean to tell me that your crew were able to pilot a Constitution-class vessel over a densely-populated Nibiran village without so much as one sighting from said Nibirans?"

"As you've had the opportunity to observe for yourself, Admiral," Jim replied, her very voice the embodiment of a shit-eating grin, "My helmsman is just that good."

Pike ran a hand down his face and sighed. Spock's head turned minutely toward her, just enough to keep her in the Vulcan's periphery.

"You're walking a very fine line, Kirk. Just remember what side of it you're on. Dismissed."

Spock very politely doesn't mention Jim's pouting about the summons not being about the five-year mission on their way back to their respective apartments.

 

What actually happens on Nibiru is something like this:

Spock is dropped into the mouth of the suddenly-not-dormant volcano just as Jim and Bones clear the immediate blast radius. They hit the bridge still in wetsuits because they don't have the fucking  _ time  _ to change into uniform.

"Spock we're talking about your life!" Jim shouts into the receiver. Uhura works furiously to keep their connection open.

_ "The Prime Directive cannot be violated,"  _ Spock replies, which is infuriatingly typical. Jim slams a palm onto the console.

"Nobody knows the rules better than you," She tries again, calmer, "but there has  _ got to be an exception  _ -"

_ "None." _ Spock says, and then the connection fuzzes out.

Jim stares out the viewport and ignores the telling steadiness in Uhura's voice as she reports the loss of connection.

"If Spock were here and I were there," she says to Bones, "What would she do?"

Jim saves Spock's life anyway.

And then, because she had just saved Spock's life and had therefore violated the Prime Directive, and also because she knew Spock a little better than anyone had expected of her, she chased the Vulcan down.

"You're not gonna submit that report." She'd said, meaning it.

Spock had frowned. "Not doing so would be in direct violation of multiple Starfleet regulations, including -"

"You are not submitting that report," Jim insisted, folding her arms across Command gold.

"May I inquire as to why?"

"Because none of the Nibirans saw us."

Spock's frown dug dimples into the corners of her mouth, "The statistical likelihood of such an event is -"

"The statistics are invalid. I lied. I didn't lead the Nibirans northwest, I led them southeast."

To her credit, Spock covers her surprise almost instantly.

"Doing so would mean that the population of the village did not reach the minimum blast radius needed in case the device did not operate accordingly."

Jim rolled her eyes, "Of course it was gonna work. But if you knew I wasn't following procedure you wouldn't blow the damn thing. Bones and I circled back to the beach and met the _Enterprise_ there. The Prime Directive was never violated because there was never anyone to witness it. And for the record, you're welcome I saved your life. Next time don't be a putz about it."

And then she'd walked away.

 

The Kelvin memorial archive gets blown to high hell Tuesday afternoon, in broad daylight.

It was a trick question, she's not pissed about either half as much as she is about what's going to happen next.

Her and Spock get called to Starfleet HQ to receive orders directly from Admiral Marcus.

Pike sits at one shoulder, Spock at the other.

"Why a library?" She murmurs to her First Officer. The Vulcan frowns, considering. It's something Jim happily takes for granted from her science officer - everything Jim says is weighted with only the most solemn of considerations. It makes the inane shit she says a little annoying to slow down and explain, but when her thoughts are moving faster than her mouth Spock's the one who's page for page with her at all times.

"If you've got something to say, Kirk, say it now. Tomorrow's too late." Marcus tells her. Jesus, he's got ears like a fucking bat.

Jim watches the footage of Harrison's escape. Nobody who planned out such an elaborate inside job would overlook the basic matter of security feeds. It was too easy, too straightforward. In space, nothing was ever simple. Nothing ever happened in a vacuum, pun excluding.

"Why an archive? That information is free to the public. An inside job of this level of forethought can't have been wasted on something that trivial. It's like she's making an initial play."

Kirk's eyes go wide. Spock stiffens beside her.

In Kirk's mind, a black pawn slides forward to make room for a much more important rook.

"Sir," She says, in her coldest, clearest tones, "Starfleet regs require all captains and first officers to gather at Starfleet headquarters in the event of a terrorist threat on home soil. That means this room, in this building."

Marcus connects the pieces just as the room is bathed in the red light of a jumper ship.

For a quarter of a second Jim is back on board the _Enterprise_ , on high alert, waiting to drop out of warp and see the destruction of Vulcan.

Then she's on her feet and screaming _ "Clear the room!" _ because she knows what happens next.

The _Enterprise_ drops out of warp.

Harrison opens fire.

 

She sees the turret blast slam into Pike's chest, send him smashing into a wall, knock him as senseless and bloodied as she was when they first met. She's maybe half a step in his direction on pure instinct when  _ Spock _ of all the goddamn people hisses at her "Go, I will attend to him" and guns it for Pike.

That's when the panic begins to dissolve into the acid of her rage.

It doesn't matter anyway, in the end, watching cold clear eyes get swallowed up by transporter energy and dark half-Vulcan eyes convey the death of Chris Pike.

No-win scenarios, Jim thinks dumbly, staring out of the two-story crater Harrison's ship had torn into the building.

 

Jane Harrison is hell in very practical boots.

She's nearly six foot two and can deadlift five times her body weight sheer off the ground, as is proven when she unloads a semi-automatic and a tank turret on six squadrons of Klingon soldiers.

She has straight black hair shorn short and pale crystalline eyes. Jim grabs a fistful of the former and slams her head into the nearest slab of stone, then sends a brutal right cross into the latter. Harrison's head snaps back, and then Jim's on her again.

She's six and scuffling with her brother.

She's seven and knocking a girl's teeth in when the words "Y'know, Jim is a boy's name" leave her mouth.

She's nine and sending a vicious uppercut into the ribs of a stranger trying to wrestle her out of her training bra.

She's twelve and scraping at bare clay.

"On behalf of Christopher Pike," Jim spits,  _ "Fuck _ you."

Her knee comes up and connects with Harrison's jaw, then a roundhouse finds its place in her chest. Jim is a dervish, a tidal wave of pain and anger and loss. She grabs hold of Harrison's hair and sets about defacing the cold-blooded bitch responsible for killing Pike.

Then Uhura screams  _ "Captain!" _ at her and Spock is watching her with those dark eyes that aren't horrified or disapproving but  _ understanding  _ of all things. Jim remembers "he'satraitoryouknowformarryingthathumanwhore" and lets her knuckles hit hard and sure on bone one last time before dropping Harrison.

The bitch doesn't even look winded.

"I accept your surrender." Jim says.

 

Bones is under very serious orders to keep his damn mouth shut. Jim doesn't bother asking the same of Spock, who's watching their prisoner like she's a particularly unstable radioactive isotope.

Which, fair.

It's them and a handful of red-shirts monitoring the only occupied cell in the brig, but it still feels like it's not enough.

Harrison's wearing Starfleet-issue blacks, which only makes Jim that much more pissed. The fact that she looks damn good in them, too, isn't helping.

Bones is all relaxed professionalism, as though he checks the haemoglobin of mass murderers every shift.

"Put your arm through the hole," he says, as the cut-out irises open. Harrison's eyes haven't left Jim's since she entered the brig, but now they wander to the edges of her cell in precise, even motions.

"Why aren't we moving, Captain?" Harrison murmurs, proffering her arm.

Jim raises an eyebrow at Bones as he locks the hypo to seal the entry wound and gives Harrison her arm back. Bones nods to her and steps in front of Spock, still steely controlled and featurelessly calm. She's a fucking ice cube in counterpoint to Jim's simmering rage.

She's maybe three steps away from her when the bitch starts talking again.

"Ignore me and everyone on this ship dies." Seeing the line of Jim's back correct, she continues, "Neither you nor I are stupid, Captain, so let's skip the pleading ignorance on your part and begin with my very important question of why. We aren't. Moving."

Very calmly Jim makes a mental note that being ignored ticks off their resident psychopath. She takes one sobering breath and prepares to grab the sedative hypo Bones brought with him in his left pocket and knock the bitch out.

Then Spock turns to her, shoulders tilted like a shield protecting Jim's back.

"Captain, I believe the prisoner is attempting to provoke you. I would not advise engaging her."

"Noted, Commander," Jim says, and if she were religious she'd say it was a miracle that kept her voice so flat.

"Perhaps a malfunction in your warp core, conveniently stranding you at the edge of Klingon space?" Harrison suggests, because she just won't shut up.

"How did you -" Bones starts, and  _ Goddammit _ . Jim's vicious about-face toward the cell cuts him off.

"I will not repeat myself, so shut the fuck up and listen to me." She says, still not angry, not yet, but she can feel it crawling up her throat like bile, "This was not a rescue mission. My orders were very clear: Jane Harrison dies on Kronos. The  _ only  _ reason why you are on my ship, in my goddamn brig, throwing your weight around like you're hot shit, is because I allowed it. You live or you die based on my good will, so before I have to use this, for the love of God shut the fuck up." Jim brandishes the hypo, letting the sedative slosh in its vial. Behind her, Bones makes an abortive noise like a hiss.

Harrison tilts her head, so Spock-like it's disarming, calculations flitting across her expression.

"Oh, Captain," she murmurs, "are you going to attack me again?"

"Don't tempt me." Jim grits out.

"This is not a fact I am unaware of," Harrison continues blithely, "To order for my execution was inevitable. It is the only way to ensure the Federation ends what it has begun. Despite your belief that you have the upper hand in this situation, the truth could not be further; I surrendered to you, Kirk, did not attempt to defend myself as you… exercised your anger. All because I believe you have conscience, a quality that the Federation lacks. You sense injustice acutely."

Jim's lips thin out. OUTBOUND: TARSUS IV burns in her twelve-year-old pocket. Harrison nods, as though sensing the thought flash across her mind.

"Who are you?" Jim growls. Her hands are shaking. She makes them into fists.

Harrison walks an impatient circuit around her cell, "A remnant of a time long past. Genetically enhanced as to lead a world at war into peace. Jane Harrison was a fiction constructed by Starfleet to protect the secret nature of their operations. In order to respond to an uncivilized threat in a civilized time, I was called upon to be exploited for the purpose of warfare."

"Exploited? In what way?" Spock asks from Jim's shoulder.

Harrison barely acknowledges her.

"Exploited for my battle prowess, the savagery I am capable of. Any battle simulator can formulate a perfect victory, but in order to win wars waged in a less-than-perfect universe, tactical instinct will out. I was created to be better. That I excelled at."

"Better?"

"At everything. Combat, strategy, nuclear astrophysics. There is no force in the universe that can stop me. My name is  _ Khan." _

And then she fucking dares her to open the torpedos.

 

Jim braces her arms against the command chair and watches the viewport count down her friend's life. She doesn't know what's worse; that she can't see Bones, or that Bones can't see her. Jim knows instantly that if he can't make it her CMO will lay his cards flat in order to get Marcus out. But that's not a scenario that will be allowed to play out, not while she's Captain Jim  _ fucking _ Kirk.

"Lock onto Marcus, prepare to beam," Jim orders, wondering if this is how Vulcans feel, so hollow and automated.

"Just let me do this!" Carol snarls back, the connection picking up her panicked breathing.

"Jim." Bones says, so low and quiet that it makes her grit her teeth. That's McCoy's version of the  _ in case I do not return, please tell Lieutenant Uhura - _ , short and sweet and a fucking sucker-punch.

"Bones, let the woman save your life," Jim says, and then the countdown hits two seconds and she motions to Sulu just as Carol hisses  _ "Shit!". _

And the counter stops.

Over the connection, the sound of pneumatics releasing can be heard.

"Bones, talk to me." Jim demands, hope a gnawing thing in her chest. Marcus's breathing abruptly catches and then levels out, the only noise on the bridge.

"Holy shit," Bones breathes, "Jim, you need to see this."

 

Khan's sitting poised and watching the far wall when Jim and Spock storm her cell.

Well, Jim's the one that storms the cell. Spock gives away exactly nothing in the perfect lines of her posture and expression and walks with a fluid calm that belies her tension.

Jim crosses her arms and raises one eyebrow. Khan exhales slowly. Is that relief? No. It's regrouping.

"Twenty-three, seventeen, forty-six, eleven." Khan says before Jim can open her mouth, "If you wish to know the truth, visit those coordinates and take a look."

"Your unwillingness to divulge information leads one to suspicion as to your true motives." Spock comments, icy smooth.

Something like a laugh bubbles up from Khan's chest. Jim wonders if she even knows how to laugh.

"Oh, Commander. You can't even break a rule; tell me, if it comes to it, how do you plan to break bone?"

"Insulting my heritage does not behoove your cause."

Jim smirks on her First Officer's behalf.

"Give me a reason to believe you." She says. Khan's head turns in her direction. Pale eyes skim the Starfleet insignia on her chest.

"Seventy-two reasons spring to mind. And they have been in your care this entire time."

"Yeah, the people locked in cryo. Figured that out already. They aren't reasons yet. Make them be."

"Captain -" Spock murmurs, because this is the anger, delayed but not diluted, finally coming to the fore.

"You ever read Shan Yu, Khan?" Jim steamrolls right over her, "Interesting thoughts on how to avoid other people's bullshit. You meet someone, he says, treat them to your hospitality, get to know them on good terms. Then hold them over a volcano, and that's when you truly meet them."

Jim takes out her communicator, eyes still fixed on Khan's widening ones, and says very clearly "Chekov, prepare to launch those torpedos."

_ "No!" _ Khan's on her feet, hands against glass, and the entire cell wall groans under the force of her panic.

Jim smiles. Waggles the communicator in her hand and says "Khan, volcano. Volcano, Khan. Now, do I have your attention?"

_ "Yes," _ Khan growls, hands becoming fists against the glass. She's still watching the communicator.

Jim beams. "Good! Now, back to telling me why I'm going to let you live."

In fact, she tells them everything.

 

("Shan Yu, Captain?" Spock queries when they step into the turbolift back to the bridge. She's a little too quiet for Jim's liking, but she couldn't blame her; Jim's aware of her ability to intimidate with the intensity of her hatred.

"You've obviously never heard of Firefly." She replies.)

 

Jim's just putting her communicator in her pocket after a particularly weird conversation with Scotty (drunk Keenser was not an experience she ever wished to endure again) when she steps onto the bridge.

"We're being hailed, Captain!" Uhura calls to her immediately, almost overlapping Sulu's "Sir, I'm getting proximity readings from a Federation vessel, but it's not one I've ever seen before."

She focuses on Sulu first, crossing the bridge to her chair in quick, efficient strides.

"What's the model?"

"That's the problem, sir, I don't know." Sulu looks worriedly at his console, then back at her, "It's bigger than the _Enterprise_ , nearly twice the size of a Constitution-class, but its proportions are all wrong. The thruster housings are huge, it doesn't look like it even has a warp core housing."

"Scan it again. Get me everything you can on it. Uhura, they identify themselves?"

"It's Admiral Marcus, sir," She says, and Christ is she good at controlling her voice. Jim nods to herself, bracing.

"On screen."

Marcus filters onto the viewport in a cloud of pixels.

"Sir, they're scanning us." Sulu reports quietly, never looking away from his station. Jim's immensely grateful that her helmsman is a certified badass.

"Kirk," Marcus greets. There's tension in that unplaceable accent of his, like he expected it to be someone else.

Probably Khan, a tiny part of Kirk muses.

"Admiral," Jim returns, "Glad you ran into us."

Marcus's eyes go pinched.

"Sorry?"

_ Got you, you bastard. _

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" She says blithely, "To help us get back to Federation territory? The Neutral Zone isn't really a place I'd like to stay long, sir."

"Scanning our brig, Captain." Sulu murmurs.

"Something I can help you find, sir?" Jim says, a bit of steel in her words where there wasn't before.

"You didn't launch any of the torpedos." It's not a question.

Jim's fingers curl. No, it's not. It's her Miranda rights, in a language only Marcus and she can speak.

"No sir. The situation didn't call for extreme measures; measures that could incite conflict with the Klingons. Jane Harrison is returning to Earth for trial according to the laws of the planet she terrorized."

Marcus' gaze is eerily like Carol's, placid and intelligent. But Carol's eyes have that darker ocean tint that warms them, while Marcus' might as well have been chips of ice peering back at Jim.

Marcus leans back in his seat. Jim crosses her legs.

She taps two fingers against the arm of the chair. Sulu's hand shifts closer to the warp lever accordingly.

"Awfully nice ship you have, Admiral," Jim says with all the nonchalance her closing throat can muster, "Not exactly what I'd bring to a rescue mission, though."

"Well shit, Kirk, I expected her to talk at you. I didn't expect you to  _ listen _ ." Marcus sighs, his expression resolving into a very Khan flavor of determination.

"At 1900 hours, Captain Kirk, you went rogue and attempted to avenge the death of Christopher Pike by stealing a starship and entering Neutral territory in order to execute war criminal Jane Harrison. I had no choice but to track you down and engage you." Marcus' eyes become pure flint, "There were no survivors of the engagement."

"Sulu, go to warp!" Jim orders, the viewport tessellating back to starscape. She makes a cursory inventory of the bridge, but there's no Spock.

"Get me Carol," she tells Uhura instead, "And contact Starfleet Command, hail them with an SOS."

"Captain." Uhura acknowledges.

Three seconds later Carol bursts onto the bridge.

"Uh, permission to come aboard," She says, already standing in front of Jim, "Sir we're not safe at warp. His ship has advanced warp drives -"

Jim's eyes go wide as 'the proportions are all wrong' bounces around her head.

The thruster housings weren't bigger. They were linked to the warp core.

_ "Fuck, _ Sulu, drop!"

Marcus' ship slams into the _Enterprise_ at a speed of three-fourths that of light. The entire bridge shudders, the ship giving a bereaved groan of impact. They spiral out of the warp tunnel.

Emergency lights descend over the bridge. This time the ambush didn't wait for them to drop from warp; it came for them.

 

Uhura hails Marcus.

"Sir, please," Jim says as soon as the connection is made. "My crew were following my orders. My actions were mine and mine alone. I'll stay on the ship. Just, please, let them beam over."

Marcus is quiet for a long time. Jim wonders, in the back of her mind, if this was what Khan felt begging for her own family.

"Hell of an apology, Kirk. But I was never going to let you get out of this alive. Needs of the many." He glances outside the viewscreen, "Fire when re -"

The transmission cuts off. Her stomach bottoms out.

A firing squad on a decaying planet cock their rifles and take aim at civilians lined against a wall. Jim can only survive so many massacres before the odds catch up to her.

"I…" She turns to face her crew. Uhura is still waiting like she's expecting orders. Jim swallows, hard.

"I'm so sorry." She whispers.

 

And then Scotty works a fucking miracle.

"Guess what I found behind Jupiter?" He exclaims, a little delirious, through the open connection.

"You're on that ship!" A breathless grin rises over her expression.

"Aye, sir. An' for the record, I accept your apology."

 

Spock catches up to Jim on her way to Medical to confront a psychopath. Her soft footsteps, usually a reassuring susurrus always one step behind her now sounds like condemnation.

She keeps walking anyway. She's the fucking captain of this ship, she's not going to be intimidated by anyone so long as that monster of a ship has their weapons directed at the _Enterprise_.

She thinks of closed circuits, watching the _Enterprise_ being built in Riverside, being torn apart deep in the starscape.

"You plan to utilize Khan's knowledge of weaponry and the schematics of warships to incapacitate the enemy ship." Spock remarks, as though discussing chess strategy.

"This is the only way we're going to live, Spock."

"It is nonetheless an illogical sol -"

Jim does an abrupt about-face and insinuates herself into Spock's personal space. She'd done this once before, spitting barbs at her First Officer until one cracked her armor of impassive logic. It had ended with a ring of bruises around her neck and the feeling of being thrown into a trash compactor.

"This is  _ not logical. _ I have no idea what I'm supposed to do to ensure everyone makes it out alive, Spock, but I know what I  _ can  _ do. It is my  _ gut instinct."  _ Jim breathes in slowly, reorganizing her thoughts into patterns that don't resemble panic.

"Khan's going to get me on that ship. As soon as she's on it, she'll take control. And like fuck I'm going to trust her in a place of power. So I need you here." She holds a hand up against Spock's protest, "I need you here, Spock. If Khan's feeling even half of what I am, she's emotionally compromised. She's afraid, and panicking. Her emotions are going to dictate her, which is why I need you to out-logic her. I need someone in that chair who knows what the fuck they're doing. That's you."

Spock stares at her with an intensity Jim remembers from a mind-meld in a frozen wasteland. An absolute focus that triggers " _ whateveryouchoosetobeyouwillalwayshaveaproudmother _ ", " _ littlesisteryou'regoingtokickassinspace _ ", " _ Iamandalwaysshallbeyourfriend _ ".

Jim nods, as though something's been confirmed for her.

"Dismissed, Commander." She says quietly.

"Captain." Spock replies, inclining her head.

Jim turns to go find her psychopath.

 

"Shit. Spock, my display's down."

"Khan has collided with debris, we have lost her signal. Jim, the statistical likelihood of achieving such a small target without your display compass is -"

"I know the problem, Spock, get me the solution!"

"Khan is back online."

Then in her ear, clearer than the fuzzy connection her HUD has to the _Enterprise_ , Khan course-corrects for her.

"I see you, Kirk." She says, blitzing in from Jim's left, spiralling overhead as she matches their trajectories.

"Scotty, the door." Jim mutters.

Scotty's end is silent.

"Mister Scott, activate the chute." Spock says, firmer now, but Jim can still hear that tiny edge to her Vulcan implacability.

"Scotty."

"Mister Scott!"

"Scotty,  _ now!" _

Khan cuts in front of her in a sharp, sudden burst of motion as the door comes within pancaking distance and then Jim is rolling hard, hitting concrete like Riverside clay, clawing and kicking and twelve years old.

Her and Khan slide to a stop in front of a Scotty tethered to a console.

"Welcome aboard." He says, an octave higher than usual.

Khan is already lifting herself up and surveying the hangar for threats, because of course she is.

"Who's this?" Scotty asks.

 

Khan is a fucking force of nature on a mission, moving like a freight train and packing as much power in each blow as one. She's ruthless and cold, but her crippling haymakers aren't clean like Spock's. She's messy anger and adrenaline within the confines of subzero calculation. Logic and emotion in synchronous harmony, a blitzkrieg in Starfleet blacks.

Some small part of Jim nags at her that Khan could have very easily let her smash into the side of the Vengeance and made her power play sans one Jim Kirk. Another part says Khan veering in front of her as the chute refused to open was also not sound strategy.

Jim ignores both.

It's not a surprise that Scotty squeaks when Jim tells him to drop her.

 

Spock's face appears on the view port, the bridge of the _Enterprise_ a pristine white backdrop. She takes in the situation with three quick sweeps of her eyes.

One, Carol and Scotty on the floor, one unconscious and the other suppressing sobs with a femur broken clean in half.

Two, the late Admiral Marcus in the opposite corner, blood and Admiral blues.

Three, Khan at the center of the bridge, a phaser pointed at Jim's temple and a hand wrapped around her neck. Spock's mind makes the calculation without her consent; at its current angle and setting, the phaser blast would create an almost textbook krönlein shot.

"You have betrayed us." Spock concludes.

Jim almost bursts into hysterical laughter.

"Oh, you are smart, Commander." Khan replies, tightening her grip on Jim. "My terms are simple. You will release my crew, and I will allow yours to live. Noncompliance will result in the immediate deaths of your entire crew. Attempt to stall, and I will kill the three you see before you. Shall we begin?"

Spock's lips thin out. Jim remembers through the haze of what feels like a concussion " _ thechoiceyoufaceiswhatpathyouwillchoose _ " and wishes she didn't know so many of Spock's memories.

"Lower shields." She instructs Sulu.

_ "No, _ Spock -"

Khan slams the butt of the phaser into her temple and she falls to the bridge like so much dead weight. At least this floor doesn't taste like grit and vodka.

"If they are not mine, Commander, I will know."

"Vulcans cannot lie. The torpedos are yours."

Something about that ticks in Jim's mind, but before she can piece it together transport energy fills the bleary edges of her vision.

 

That these goddamn warp core access chambers didn't come equipped with hazmat suits was a  _ major fucking design flaw. _

Jim presses the release on the chamber seal and lets go of the breath she didn't know she'd been holding. The corner of her eye catches Science blues and she tilts her head to smile up at Spock.

Seeing a Vulcan look so helplessly human was more heartbreaking than Jim had thought it would be.

Spock reaches for the glass and then pulls her hands away, settling for tracing her eyes over Jim's face.

"How we doing, Spock?" Jim says.

"The crew is safe. The _Enterprise_ has achieved warp capability." Spock reports, because established facts are easier to deal with than saying goodbye.

"You out-logicked her. Knew you could."

_ "Jim -" _

Jim swallows Spock's words with her own so she doesn't have to hear the apology in them.

"I want you to know why I lied to you on Nibiru, why I went back for you."

"I believe I understand." Spock says, just above a monotone, and that's enough.

Jim smiles, nods. Her vision teeters. Spock presses a hand to the glass, parted in the ta'al.

"I don't know how you do it," Jim says through a dry throat, "Not feel. I'm scared."

"Nor do I," Spock replies. Jim can hear her next inhale, the struggle for her to pull it into her chest without breaking. "Currently I am failing."

"S'okay, Spock," Jim murmurs. Blue melds into black and grey and becomes the smeary beauty of a watercolor. Spock's expression careens into abstraction, too, but not before Jim can commit it to memory.

" _ Shehashumaneyestheylooksad _ "

_ Angerconfusionlonelinessfear _

Jim aligns their fingers against the partition of glass.

She runs out of road and the cliff swallows her whole.

The _Enterprise_ passes the event horizon.

The firing squad loads her bullet and she catches it at center-mass.

The odds catch up.

 

Jim was on the good list.

It didn't matter.

 

It was

"Do you want to see something extraordinary, Miss Kirk?"

and

"Welcome to Tarsus IV. Welcome home."

but it turned into

"Please, we need the grain."

"You don't have anything to trade for it, sweetheart."

"…Yes, I do."

and

"Open fire on my command! Ready - aim -"

_ Fire. _

 

_ Father was the captain of a starship for twelve minutes _

_ I dare you to do better _

_ My little spitfire, c'mere, I missed you _

_ It is a legacy I will rob you of _

_ I believe I understand _

_ The Cadet's logic is sound _

_ Goddamn it Jim I'm a doctor not a torpedo technician _

_ Captain on the bridge _

_ The point is to experience fear, fear in the face of certain death, to accept that fear, and maintain control of oneself and one's crew. _

 

_ A captain cannot cheat death. _

 

Jim wakes up to the sound of Southern-accent nagging.

It's not the first time she has.

"Don't be so dramatic. You were barely dead."

Jim focuses on a point on the ceiling and waits for her vision to regroup until she can see the flaws in the plaster. Her breathing stirs a piece of hair that's come to lay over her lip.

Bones is in her periphery, white scrubs blindingly crisp and clean.

"It wasn't even the dying that took its toll," He continues, as though that's somehow her fault. "The transfusion was what your body had a hard time adjusting to."

Jim furrows her eyebrows at him. Hopes that's enough of a cue.

Bones knows her a little too well, because apparently it is.

"Synthesized superwoman blood, yeah. Tell me, you feeling despotic? Power mad? Homicidal?"

Jim finds her voice enough to scrape together "No more than usual," although it comes out more like the sound a jammed wood chipper might make.

"You've been out of it for two weeks," Bones says, going through the motions of adjusting her IV. As he checks where it meets her skin, his eyes catch hers and hold them.

"Next time you die," He says with intent, "Don't. Or at least tell me beforehand."

Jim quirks her lips and tilts her head at him.

"Sorry I had you worried."

He snorts and straightens back up.

"No you're not," He snips, but the tension has left his shoulders.

Jim counts that as a win.

Something shifts to her right. With effort, Jim turns her head to track it. Spock stands from her seat near the door and crosses to the mediberth in slow, hesitant steps.

"Hey there," Jim says, wincing at the gravel in her voice. Spock politely doesn't seem to notice.

"Captain." She replies, pitching her words low.

"Please tell me you socked her in the jaw, at least."

Spock looks abruptly sheepish, a weird look for a Vulcan. Then that melts a little to pride, and there, that's better.

"I broke three of her ribs, both the ulna and radius of her right arm, fractured her xiphoid process, and dislocated both shoulders."

Jim blinks, and then bursts into bright, pealing laughter, which comes out little better than her voice. Spock looks fractionally pleased by the reaction. Bones shoots her a scowl over his shoulder just to ruin her fun.

"I'm going to update your records, give you two a minute," He relents, leaving in a begrudging huff and sending a pointed look to Spock as the door closed behind him.

Jim cocks an eyebrow at her First Officer.

"What was that?"

"I do not know to what you refer," Spock says, and that's obviously a lie and evasive, but before Jim can call her out on it she continues, "You do not seem to be surprised by your recovery."

Jim shrugs with what limited mobility she has.

"I knew you'd come through."

Spock blinks, as if this were news. Jim rolls her eyes.

"Khan?"

"Returned to the cryostasis from which she originally came. Starfleet has locked all seventy three of the cryonics pods and has posted a security detail to monitor them at all times. Meanwhile, our ship continues to undergo repairs. The crew have been granted leave until the _Enterprise_ is cleared for active deployment once more."

Jim smiles, just a small curl of lips, and lets herself have the victory.

"Two weeks all to yourself without me breathing down your neck," Jim laughs again because it feels good, "Kept yourself busy without me?"

There's that sheepish bow to her mouth again. Her eyes slide away from Jim's.

"I have been largely here." She admits.

Jim doesn't say anything, but Spock explains herself as though she had.

"It is an illogical impulse to ensure your recovery that has drawn me to daily visits. I offer no source of aid to Doctor McCoy in your treatment, as I have no previous medical training, however I wish to remain in your proximity regardless of this fact."

Jim's fingers curl, brushing the meat of her palms. High points of olive dust her First Officer's ears where they peek out from beneath her hair and  _ oh _ .

Jim doesn't remember ever being this slow on the uptake before.

And of course that's when Bones busts back into the room with an armload of paperwork and a diatribe about outmoded record keeping systems.

 

Although Jim died and half of London has become rubble under the wrath of Khan, the world doesn't end. Which is sort of a miracle, at least from Jim's perspective.

She spends another week and a half bedridden and griping to any nurse unfortunate enough to come within earshot. Bones finally signs her release papers after the third escape attempt.

San Francisco is still gorgeous drenched in fog, just as hipster and eclectic as Jim's been homesick for for weeks. Bones insists on her bunking with him, waving assorted hypos around until she agrees.

Even being back with Bones in his cramped one-bed one-bath doesn't stop the sickening feeling in her gut, though. As though she's waiting for something to break, for the dream to end and truly being dead to begin.

She wakes up twice on Bones' couch choking on the ash of her own starvation and three times screaming her death. Bones flattens a hand against the crown of her head and leans into her in the dark, sleep-slurred "You're alright, darlin'" lost under her rapid breathing. He makes her coffee and stays up with her even though he has rounds in the morning, watches reruns of crappy televids with her and never asks the one question Jim knows she can't answer.

While Bones works Jim tries not to fall apart entirely. She paces the apartment in a Beastie Boys tee, goes drinking but doesn't get drunk, throws on  _ The House That Dirt Built  _ and then turns it off. She says the name Chris Pike aloud to the empty air and doesn't cry.

On CNN, London rebuilds itself. Candle sales skyrocket as streetcorner memorials are erected.

She texts Spock. Weirdly, Spock texts back.

_ >> I wanna go back to space _

_ >> The sentiment is mutual. _

Jim throws her communicator at a wall and makes herself a coffee. She grabs a bottle of vodka while she's at it, too.

No, not the end of the world. But close.

 

She forgot how messy things were on Earth, how many things could happen all at once and leave her in their dust. In space, everything happened gradually - change so slow it was barely distinguishable. Starships were tiny enclosed worlds in and of themselves, and not a lot could happen on a ship the size of eight football fields in comparison to what could happen on an entire goddamn planet.

The first time Carol Marcus walks into Bones' apartment - using her spare key,  _ what the fuck  _ \- Jim isn't actually wearing pants and has a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.

"Captain!" Carol squeaks. Jim blinks by way of response.

One pair of pants and a mouthful of water later, Jim's furiously typing at Spock while Bones makes Carol tea in the kitchen.

_ >> I think Bones is trying to woo Carol this is so weird _

_ >> Presuming the Carol you refer to is Carol Marcus, are you not pleased on behalf of Doctor McCoy? _

_ >> Yeah good for him getting back on the pony but I mean Carol _

_    > That wasn't emphatic enough lemme try again _

_    > CAROL?? _

_ >> This outcome is not surprising when taken into account that Doctor McCoy expressed an affinity for Miss Marcus during her tenure on the Enterprise. _

_ >> I just wish he wouldn't express his affinity with me in the NEXT ROOM _

Once the regaling of the lumbar puncture of an Allasomorph began Jim decided enough was enough and made her escape to the nearest bar.

She knew change was a thing that happened, but it didn't mean she had to like it.

 

_ >> Fuck all the things _

_ >> Captain, I believe you are inebriated. Is my assumption correct? _

_ >> Damn straight _

_ >> What is your current location? _

_ >> Corner of let's get and off this planet _

_ >> It was not a query meant to be answered in jest. _

_ >> Home. Who the fuck even says in jest. Who even are you Spock _

_ >> As this conversation stands testament to, your chosen contact while under the influence of alcohol. _

_ >> Was that sass _

_ >> You are obviously impaired, Captain, to even consider such insubordination on my behalf. _

_ >> Saaaass _

 

_ >> Spock? _

_ >> I am here, Jim. _

_ >> Okay. Just making sure. Sorry _

 

_ >> But do you ever really think about how big the universe is _

_ >> Go to sleep, Jim. _

 

Jim gets the five-year mission, because she knew she would.

That, and the Admiralty are in consensus that she is one bad motherfucker and it would not do to cross her. Funny, you take down one genocidal mass murderer and suddenly respect happens.

Spock is also not surprised by the commission. Logically, there was no other candidate for a mission of such broad parameters that could be trusted to perform like the _Enterprise_. They were a known outcome amidst unknown variables. The choice was clear.

I win, Jim thinks, I win your dare, you asshole.

 

"Five years in space," Bones grouses at her shoulder, "God help me."

"Don't be such an infant," Jim quips, shooting a beaming grin over her shoulder. She turns to Spock.

"Where to, Commander?"

"As a voyage of this duration has never been undertaken before, I defer to your good judgement, Captain."

Jim smiles and gives the order to go to warp.

 

Damn, it feels good to be back.

 

 


End file.
